Inner Demons
by yourmainsqueeze
Summary: Gaara knows all about dealing with the demons on the inside. Sakura, it seems, is barely coping.


He can feel her eyes on the back of his head and it's unnerving.

Gaara is currently walking down the maze-like hallways of his political affairs building, struggling to maintain a calm visage. He is late for a meeting that cannot start without him and it annoys him beyond reason. He thinks about the elders that are waiting and the ceaseless questions of the other Kages. He thinks about battle plans and the numbers of those wounded. He thinks about what he will say and what he must do.

They are two and a half years into a war that Gaara doesn't think will ever end, and he is frustrated. He has been called back from the field for a routine meeting of the Kages. This meeting, like all the others, has brought him home, to the confines of his very own village. His village, the one that is situated nearest to the frontlines, seems foreign. The stench of rot pervades his senses and, even without the oppressive heat of the daytime sun, there is no such thing as fresh air. He itches to be free of this place.

He thinks of his shinobi and the battle raging at some not so far off place. He thinks of the desert and the bodies that it swallows whole. He thinks, again, of the woman staring at his back.

He turns to glare and isn't surprised that she doesn't even notice. His movement has her gaze pointed beyond him, at the place where he once stood, and she doesn't have the mental acuity to readjust. Her despondency was startling months ago, but now it is almost expected.

About a year ago, Sakura had been part of a small group that had been charged with moving a group of civilians further from what had become enemy territory. The group had been unexpectedly ambushed, and all of the party wiped out. All, except Sakura. They had found her days later, wide-eyed and shaking, pumping chakra she didn't have into an already decaying boy.

The reality was that no one had anticipated that the group would be attacked and those assigned to the mission were the ones that could be spared. Sakura had only been there to serve as a medic for the already deteriorating civilians. She had far outranked the leader of the mission. It was no surprise that she was the one responsible for taking out the majority of the enemy.

However, that wasn't the part of the story that everyone whispered about. They all talked about the way she had been found and the ruined woman that she was when they brought her back.

Gaara hadn't been there, but the event had circulated enough rumors for him to fully visualize it. Apparently, the scene had been littered with evidence of Sakura's strength. Bodies had been piled everywhere and Sakura had been right in the middle of everything. Like a long forgotten goddess of yesteryear, she had sat, head bowed in the middle of her rotting offerings, attempting to invoke the powers that she had once been revered for.

Since the incident, one everyone invariably linked with her mentor's breakdown, Sakura had been kept in Suna. She was charged with heading the proceedings of the hospital and coordinating the medical ninja. It was a job worthy of her rank, and it conveniently kept her off the battlefield.

Gaara had thought her coddled, until he had the unfortunate luck to encounter her in passing. A moment of fleeting eye contact, and he understood her to be irrevocably changed. Her eyes were not dead, but they were bitter and they hadn't seen him at all.

He is reminded of that moment now. Studying her, he can tell she is seeing something, but he knows that it isn't anything he is looking at. She stares out at memories that her unforgiving mind flashes across the hollow landscape of their shared reality. Gaara knows this because her eyes tell him and his own experiences remind him.

The similarity scares him. He sees her changing and not in a good way. Her decline is apparent to him because it mirrors the pattern of his growth.

She has a faraway look on her features when she finally manages to readjust her gaze. Still no eye contact, she is looking at his hair, distant and disgusted.

"There was a girl with red hair..."

For a moment he worries what she will say. Is she about to bring up the very event he was just thinking about? For a split second he feels guilt for buying into the gossip, but mostly he feels unease.

"…the last time that all three of us were together."

It only takes him a moment to comprehend her statement. For Sakura, _all three of us_ can only refer to one group of people. The prolific, infamous team seven. Sakura, and the only two men that can claim her truest, most adamant affections.

"I healed her, but really, I think I wanted to kill her. Which, of course, is stupid. It wasn't her fault. I just hated her."

He feels bad for this broken thing in front of him for so many reasons. Time, and the cruelty of others, have damaged her beyond repair.

"I just hated her because of him. It hurt and I wasn't even able to act on that pain. A perpetual failure."

He remembers the girl that jumped in front of her beloved teammate. He recalls the strength of the woman that saved his brother. He sees her past tears and her past smiles.

"Sakura."

He interrupts her because he feels that he should. The thing she is now doesn't align with what she once was. It makes him uncomfortable. Unfortunately, his interruption has her looking at him expectantly and he has absolutely nothing to say. However, the silence saves him the trouble of finding words by giving Sakura the reprieve she needs to find her thoughts. Something in her eyes flickers to awareness. She releases a tired sigh and allows her small back to hit the smooth wall of the hallway. She looks sadly up at him and shakes her head.

"Sorry, Kazekage-sama. Sometimes I space out a little when I'm tired. What were we talking about?"

Her genuine inquiry has him looking away and turning to rest beside her on the wall. She has presented him with a unique scenario. He can tell her the truth and force her to face the reality of her deterioration, or he can lie and protect her from the pain of knowing. He wonders which would be better, which he would have preferred when he was how she is now. He wonders how she could benefit from the truth, and understands that she wouldn't. Again, he recalls the little girl that leapt in front of him at his worst in the hopes of protecting a friend. That girl, he decides, deserves the same kind of blind protection.

"My hair. You commented on my hair."

He watches as her cheeks turn rosy and embarrassment dances across her features. She hesitates and then looks sheepish. She keeps her gaze low as she brushes errant pink locks behind her ear.

"Ah, well, you do have very pretty hair, Kazekage-sama."

He is shocked into silence by her words and, again, she is the first to find the way out.

A shy smile, one that makes it all the way to her eyes, greets him as she pushes off the wall. Here is the girl that he remembers. Shining and beautiful in the infancy of her adulthood, Sakura remembers how to smile, alone, in a barren hallway, with him. He feels satisfaction in knowing that he has influenced her happiness, that he has pulled her from the jaws of the demon within.

"Sorry to take up your time with trivial things."

A small bow and she is gone. Though he has many things to accomplish during the brief duration of his stay, Gaara lingers on the wall. He thinks only of Haruno Sakura, the warmth of her dormant smiles, and the fact that she thinks his hair is pretty. Perhaps, there is still fresh air in this place after all.


End file.
